


Why Round Instead of Square?

by CreateImagineWrite



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Protective Arthur
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-23
Updated: 2014-03-23
Packaged: 2018-01-16 18:20:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1357330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CreateImagineWrite/pseuds/CreateImagineWrite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One-shot: How I think the Round Table came to be. Fluff and lots of lovely wonderful bromance. Slash if you squint really hard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Why Round Instead of Square?

The Round Table, ah, what a strange thing it was. And how Arthur decided to get a round table, now that’s a story to be told. See, it started like this, as many of Arthur and Merlin’s stories do:

“...how hard is it to try to do just one little thing right, _Mer_ lin?!”

Arthur was still ranting. Merlin couldn’t really understand why. So he’d accidentally spilled wine on one of Arthur’s shirts. The Prince had plenty of shirts. In fact, he had four of this exact same type of shirt, of the exact same color, just in case something like this happened.

And it really had been an accident. He just felt off-balance today, and light-headed, and he hadn’t meant to stumble and spill the wine on Arthur at the feast in the visiting King’s honor.

“You’re such an _idiot_ ,” Arthur was saying. “I don’t know why I don’t just fire you and hire someone who can actually do their job properly!”

Merlin felt he should say something witty in retort, but he felt so tired, and light-headed, and he was holding an identical shirt in his hands, and it was so heavy, and why didn’t Arthur just take it already and stop yelling at him, because his head hurt. And he felt so tired.

And then everything went black.

__________________________________________________________________________________

When he awoke, he was lying on Arthur’s bed. The Prince himself was out of sight somewhere, talking loudly.

“I don’t know, Gaius. One second he was just standing there, looking at me, and then the next second he was falling. I… is he going to be alright?”

“I’m sure he’ll be fine, sire,” Gaius’s voice answered. “He’s just fainted, from the sounds of it.”

“Fainted?” Arthur’s voice was incredulous. “Merlin might be a girl sometimes, Gaius. But he doesn’t _faint_.”

“Arthur?” Merlin struggled to make his voice work. He felt so _dizzy_ , and he hadn’t even sat up yet. This really wasn’t normal.

“Merlin!” Arthur was in his line of sight in an instant. “How are you feeling?” The concern in his voice was extremely touching, Merlin thought.

“Horrible,” he said, quite truthfully. Gaius came into view as well. “I feel dizzy, and light-headed, and tired, and will you please stop talking so loudly so I can go back to sleep.” His voice was grumpy.

Gaius frowned. “I don’t think going back to sleep is a good idea, Merlin. You passed out.”

The bed-ridden brunette thought that ‘passed out’ sounded considerably more manly than ‘fainted’. “Probably because I need more sleep because Prince Prat has been working me to death,” he grumbled. He wasn’t really getting into the insults. He wanted to close his eyes again. He was so _tired_.

He didn’t even notice his eyes drifting closed until Arthur grabbed his hand and spoke sharply. “Merlin!”

Gaius spoke a little more gently. “Merlin, I think you need to try to keep your eyes open so we can figure out what’s wrong.”

The invalid did not like this situation. “The only thing that’s wrong is that I haven’t been getting enough sleep,” he insisted. He was tired. His eyelids were heavy. He wanted nothing more than to go to sleep and never wake up again.

“Merlin,” Gaius’s voice was still gentle, soothing, “when was the last time you ate something?”

The question made him pause. That wasn’t what he’d been expecting. “I…” He thought about it. “I ate breakfast with you… when was it?”

Gaius stared at him for a second. “Merlin,” he said slowly. “That was four days ago.”

Arthur inhaled sharply. “What?” He sounded stunned.

“I’ve been busy,” Merlin answered defensively. “We went on that hunt, and I didn’t have time for lunch because I had to get the horses ready, and then Percival ate the stuff in the bottom of the pot I’d been saving for myself when you told me to go get more firewood after supper. And that happened again at breakfast, and then I was always too busy. I had to muck out the stables, or clean your armour, and then Gaius sent me to collect herbs, and I forgot to grab some food, and then I went to the kitchen for some and Cook thought I was stealing and chased me out...” He stopped talking as Arthur just stared at him, anger growing more and more apparent on his features.

“Four days?” Arthur’s voice was dangerously calm.

Merlin didn’t want to answer. Arthur was going to yell at him. His head hurt. He didn’t want Arthur to yell at him.

“Why – exactly – didn’t you _say something_?” Arthur’s voice reverted to a growl on the last two words.

“You would have thought I was slacking, or something, if I asked to go get something to eat. And I did mention something when Percival ate the last of it, but nobody really paid attention…” He quailed under Arthur’s glare.

“You’re nearly starving yourself to death, Merlin! You _should have said something_!” He raised his voice on that last sentence, and raised his hand.

For a moment, Merlin thought Arthur was going to hit him. Of course, the Prince was intending to do no such thing, and was really reaching to exasperatedly cover his eyes at this horrible predicament, but by the time the under-fed individual had realized that, he’d already flinched away. And that movement turned out to be a _really_ bad idea, because blood rushed to his head, and completely against his will, his eyes fluttered closed.

And everything went black. Again.

______________________________________________________________________________

This time, when he woke up, Arthur’s voice was considerably more frantic. “Merlin!” Someone squeezed his hand a little harder than necessary. “Merlin!”

“What?” Why couldn’t they just leave him alone? It was nice, in the dark. It was peaceful, and quiet, and no one yelled at him. He was so tired. Why couldn’t they just go away?

“Merlin,” Arthur sounded really worried, which is probably why he decided it was maybe a good idea to at least try and open his eyes. “You’ve got to try and stay awake.”

“I don’t want to stay awake,” Merlin mumbled, and as a result it came out more as ‘Idunwanstawake.’

It was a mark of how much time the Prince spent with his manservant that he actually understood, and chuckled at the invalid’s impertinence, though the sound was more nervous than usual. “You need to. Gaius has gone to get some food. You’ve got to stay awake to eat it, alright?”

“Why are you holding my hand?” Curiosity made Merlin fight the sleepiness for a bit. The food didn’t really interest him, but Arthur’s hand on his was kind of interesting.

“Don’t take it the wrong way,” the Prince warned him. “If you must know, I’m trying to reassure myself you’re still alive by feeling your pulse, and also to tell you I’m here.”

“I know you’re here,” Merlin pointed out, confused.

Arthur threw his free hand up in the air. “Alright, you daft idiot, I’m holding your hand because you’re the only real friend I’ve got, and I don’t want you to die, especially not something as stupid as starving yourself to death because you keep forgetting to eat.”

A smile twitched on the daft idiot in question’s lips. “I didn’t realize you cared.”

“Well, I do, alright. So stay awake and eat something.”

“Yes, sire,” Merlin said, his tone teasing.

They sat in companionable silence for a minute, or Arthur sat, while Merlin lay down, but he opened his eyes a couple times to assure the Prince that he wasn’t going to sleep.

“I can’t believe I didn’t notice,” Arthur broke in, looking chagrined. “I’m a Knight, trained to notice every little detail and use it to my advantage, and I don’t even notice that you’re not eating.”

“You’re bound to miss something occasionally,” Merlin assured him. “And I probably should have tried harder to find something to eat when I did get hungry. It just didn’t seem all that important.”

“Not all that important?” Arthur’s voice was a growl again. His eyes flashed.

Merlin shrank backwards, and the Prince promptly tried to control his expression. The whole flinching and passing out thing apparently hadn’t passed him by.

“Alright, after this, you’re going to be eating with me, every day. When you bring me breakfast, you will bring enough for two, and you will be sitting beside me at dinner.”

Merlin frowned. “Arthur, I can’t sit beside you at dinner. What would your father…”

The Prince cut him off with a tone that brooked no argument. “And I will deal with my father.”

At this point, Gaius returned with a tray of food, and Arthur then forced his manservant to eat every single bite, before he finally let the exhausted – though now quite satisfied – individual close his eyes and go to sleep. In Arthur’s bed, no less.

________________________________________________________________________________

It was because of this that Merlin found himself seated at Arthur’s right hand, at the head of the banquet table, eating dinner with Uther and Morgana. He’d never felt so conspicuous in his entire life. Okay, except for that time where Arthur had made him wear the servant’s attire with that _ridiculous_ hat, but other than that…

Uther didn’t say a word, which meant the Prince had obviously explained his presence. Merlin rather wondered what he’d said to convince the King. But the man’s gaze did linger on him rather often during the meal, as did Morgana’s, and every time they looked at him, he could feel the tips of his abnormally large ears going red.

Morgana, a couple times, looked like she was going to ask why he was there, but then Arthur would shoot her a glare, and she’d fall silent with a puzzled look on her face.

It was an unusually quiet dinner. Merlin spent the entire time wanting to enchant the floor to swallow him whole, and trying to eat whenever Arthur glanced his way without looking like he wanted to throw up. Not because of the food. The food was delicious, more delicious than any he’d ever tasted, actually. But the sheer nervousness he felt was making him rather too nauseous to enjoy it properly.

Afterwards, as they stepped into the relative safety of the castle corridor, Merlin relaxed.

“Well, that went well,” Arthur said, smiling.

“That was bloody _awful_ ,” Merlin protested. “I’m never going to do it again.”

The Prince frowned. “What’s wrong? Was the food not to your liking? I could have asked for something different for you if you wanted it.”

The manservant gaped at him. “No, no, the food was fine. But, seriously, Arthur, I’m a servant, I don’t belong at the _head_ of the table, at the _Crown_ _Prince’s_ right hand. It’s bizarre!”

“Well, you’re not getting a choice. I have every intention of making sure you get something to eat every day, and the easiest way of doing that is if you eat with me, so you’ll just have to get used to it.”

Merlin’s mouth opened and closed like a fish. “Arthur!” His voice was pleading. “I’m not going to die. Gaius will make sure I eat.”

The Prince snorted. “Yes, and he did _such_ a good job of that last time.”

“It wasn’t Gaius’s fault!” Merlin jumped to defend his guardian.

“No, it wasn’t. It was mine for not noticing, and I’m not letting it happen again.”

He started to protest, and Arthur rounded on him and put his hands on his manservant’s shoulders, eyes pleading. “ _Please_ , Merlin. For once, can you just do as you’re told?”

It was the ‘Please’ that did him in. “Alright,” he said grudgingly. “Fine, but I don’t have to like it.”

The Prince sighed in exasperation. “If it makes you feel any better, when I’m King, I’ll have a _round_ table, and then, when you’re sitting next to me, you won’t be in a place of greater standing than anyone else, alright?”

His manservant looked him over suspiciously. “Do you promise?”

“I promise,” Arthur vowed.

Merlin smiled, that happy carefree grin of his. “Alright, I’ll hold you to it.” And they walked companionably down the hall.

_____________________________________________________________________________

So, years later, when Prince Arthur was King Arthur, and the table in the banquet hall changed to a huge round stone table, no one questioned that Merlin, the King’s manservant-turned-advisor-turned-Court-Sorcerer, was entitled to the most honoured spot at Arthur’s right hand. Because, as far as anyone remembered, Merlin had _always_ sat at the royal’s right hand, even when Uther was King, and Queen Guinevere didn’t seem to mind being on his left hand. And if visitors questioned the strange seating plan, most people just smiled and shrugged and said that Arthur had always had a different way of doing things.

And if anyone noticed that Merlin gained a bit of weight around the middle and started wearing baggy robes to hide it, and that Arthur never once teased his friend about it, which most people assumed he would, no one said a word.


End file.
